Dating

I’ve had a lovely date tonight. With a different man to ‘the fling’.

It’s currently half past midnight, we spent nearly six hours together. We ate dinner – he educated me on sushi – and then we got drunk together at a bar. We each went to our separate homes.

He was flirty from the first Tinder message, but my brand of flirty. A littlr but awkward, but still forthcoming. A little bit nerdy, but still with clear intentions.

He touched my hand. He touched my arm. He guided me by the waist. I’m not generally a fan of these paternalistic, flirty manoeuvres. But this was pleasant. It’s nice to feel wanted and dainty and attractive.

He’s coming over tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it.

Responsibility and friendship

I think the brief fling is over. I think it probably was a fling in the truest sense of the term because it is over.

I had a little spate of checking to see if he’d messaged me on WhatsApp. I had muted the notifications from him because I thought that it meant I’d have less anxiety about each time the WhatsApp icon popped up. In truth, it meant that I was checking the app all the time to see if there were messages I was missing.

So I had my little obsessive phase. A little blink of time where I thought about him and what it would be like to be together and what it would be like to kiss him again when he’s back in the country. But now that’s gone, and genuinely that’s pretty okay.

(This may have been helped along by the event of me trying to show his profile on Tinder to a friend and realising that his new profile information was asking for kinky kinky sex in the city he’s in.) (Which isn’t something for me, but I don’t mind that it is for him.)

So the journey of post break up continues. It’s not sad anymore, and having a fling has proved to me that I’m capable of touching another person. I might have a date coming up which is always a little exciting.

There’s always going to be that little tie to my ex. My first everything. Someone I think of as a friend, even if friendship right now means sending each other memes on Instagram.

The other day we were chatting about how his band is probably going to break up. He was sad about it and feeling quite defeatist, and then he mentioned that it was karma. Having spent five years with this man, I knew that this was something I was supposed to explore with him.

I briefly thought about responsibility. Is it my responsibility to cheer him up and give pep talks when he’s feeling so down, now? But then, if we’ve made this dedication to friendship, I think it still is. I just won’t give him a snog afterwards.

So. Karma. He tells me it’s karma for how bad he made me feel when he dumped me. Something he feels guilty about ‘at least once a week’. I phoned him – it’s very hard to have an emotional chat through text.

We chatted. I told him how the break up was necessary. How we weren’t perfect for a long time. Things that I’ve thought and written about here, but finally finally got the chance to actually say. I told him how he shouldn’t feel bad for being the one to end things. How I appreciated that on that day, he stayed with me until I asked him to leave. How I appreciated that he kissed me on the forehead. That I was looking to the future a short time later, because it was right to break up.

I got to tell him something that pissed me off about the break up. The one thing he said that’s always gotten under my skin. He didn’t apologise, but that’s okay – I said it. I let out this irritating little bug that’s been sat in my brain for nearly a year, and it was so cathartic.

He told me he was proud of us for being friends. And truthfully, so am I.

Second firsts

I met somebody on Tinder. It was never going to be a long lasting thing, but it was brilliant to have some new firsts, especially as what would have been my sixth anniversary approaches.

So.

My friend has developed a habit of swiping for me on dating apps. She’s married, and met her husband before the advent of dating apps, so it’s all a big novelty to her.

I can understand why: there’s so much weird humanity on display on Tinder. You get to view these strange little conceptions that people have made of themselves, and briefly you imagine a life with this person. You can think about what it would be like to be with a man who has a child already. Could I be a stepmother? Or a man who’s very into the gym. Would he make me more active? A woman who sings in a choir. Would she inspire my creativity? Of course there are terrible people, but there’s a little bit of the romantic in me that likes to imagine the many different lives that splinter into the horizon.

So.

My friend was swiping. She saw this man, and swiped right on him. And several others. She’s fairly indiscriminate. He and I start talking. It becomes flirty. He comes to my house one evening. That was a first for me.

But everything else that followed were second firsts. It’s exhilarating to know that someone fancied me, but also that I fancied someone. It’s exciting to kiss somebody different and notice the different feelings and emotions and sensations. It’s hilarious to have a hickey at the age of 27 and have people take the piss out of me at work.

So.

I relished the newness. I knew it would never be a long term thing. He has big grand life plans that take him far away from my brand of a quiet life in England. But again, that splintering of an alternate life was glimmering in the horizon, and I did think about following him to different countries, learning new languages and being more adventurous. Realistically, though, it’s not to be.

That first day, it revolutionised my thinking. I was so blown away that I could meet someone casually, and that it’s easy and fun and positive. It made me realise that I am an adult who can make adult decisions, and there could be more for me out there than falling into a long term monogamous relationship and firing out some babies.

Today we were talking and flirting all day. Nothing came of it, but I did ask about meeting again. To which he revealed that he’s out of the country as of Saturday.

I’d been discussing with my friends about the casual aspect of this encounter. It is great to have no commitment. I liked the way that I knew it was going to be a limited time. But I’d imagined the limited time would be a few months away and not two days away.

I’m feeling sad, presently. And I’d been so pleased with myself about all of those independent thoughts. So now to realise that maybe I liked him (or the way he made me feel) more than I’d thought is deflating.

So.

Has this been a good experience? I’ve proved to myself that I can have a different type of relationship or encounter that I’d thought. I’ve had it proved to me that I can be thought of as sexy or attractive by someone who isn’t my ex. I can have physical experiences I haven’t had for a long time.

The thing that’s troubling me is have I been used?

Or, actually, have I used someone else?

New normal

It’s honestly wonderful to get to a point where I don’t know how many weeks it’s been since we broke up.

I like numbers. I like patterns in numbers, and collecting numbers and dates and amounts. So to be in a place where I’m not quantifying how long it’s been is wonderful. It’s a new normal, and it’s nice to be on this even keel.

Of course there are bits where I miss him, but as I’ve alluded to before, it’s no longer about him in the specific, and more about missing having a someone who is there for me.

My example this week is that I’ve had a cold. He was never that great about looking after me when I was unwell, but he is a kind soul who would listen to me whine about how grim I felt. So I’ve missed the opportunity to be pathetic in my minor respiratory virus, but I didn’t miss his brand of comfort specifically.

In other news, I’ve applied for a dating show. For any British person that might read this – I’ve applied for First Dates. It’s a big show, and it must of thousands of applicants. It was a fun diversion to spend a bit of time writing about who I am and who I’d like to date. It also gave me that little fix I was getting from downloading multiple dating apps – the validation of knowing that someone might fancy me, and the satisfaction that I could act upon these urges if I wanted to.

I don’t think I am particularly desperate to meet anybody at the moment. It remains pleasant to just worry about myself, although that does mean that my house is a shithole, because I’m the only one that’s been in it for weeks. And the cats definitely don’t care if there’s dirty dishes in the sink.

The one slightly tricky thing about applying for the dating show was that it asked who I’m interested in. In an effort to attempt to be a good bisexual, I chose the option of ‘looking for men and women’.

The reality of that remains scary. I went on a little extended daydream about what would happen if I were accepted onto the television show, and what would happen if they matched me with a woman in order to make good television, and what would happen if my friends and family saw that.

Of course, it’s incredibly unlikely that I would be accepted onto the show, but what if? What if?

Do I want to date again?

I met up with him today. It was a source of anxiety, but at the practical level I needed to get my house keys back. On the emotional level I think I needed to see him to remind myself that we don’t hate each other, we’re still the same people and that maybe we could be friends.

But do I want to be friends? It’s been 8 days (8 days!) since the break up, and I have come to realise that no matter how sad or tearful I sometimes am, it’s not because I want him back. I wrote previously about the reasons that actually I have a sense of freedom and a burgeoning sense of excitement about one day finding somebody new.

Do I want to be friends? Do I miss him as a boyfriend or as a person? Do I just miss that sense of having somebody that was just mine and that knew everything about me?

I think that the very fact of having questions is the useful part of blogging. It’s really handy to write it out in slightly flowery language and try and figure out what I’m feeling.

So we saw each other. We had lunch. We chatted a bit about future plans for ourselves. He’s deferring his degree to focus on mental health, which is a massive and positive decision on his part. I’m waiting to see what is happening with my application to study a Master’s. He’s going to some events for his hobbies. I’m seeing friends on various places and hoping to make the most of this ridiculous British heatwave.

We split the bill in the restaurant. An echo of our first ever date. For the last five years, one or other of us has always paid the bill in full and swapped off for the next time. We got bubble tea which tasted horrible. Space Oddity was playing in the background and I sang along. He said the song would always remind him of me.

We said goodbye. We hugged and then both slightly ducked in for a kiss. We didn’t kiss, but there was a beat of tension when we realised what we had automatically begun to do. I made a joke about it. He laughed.

I pretended to laugh. I walked away and cried in my car.

I’m not a frequent crier, and I’ve forgotten how sometimes it feels like a release. I left the encounter feeling positive and lighter. I never once thought about wanting him back, or wondering if he cared or loved me. These were the things which I’d worried about, so it was nice to realise that although I was sad at the ending, I wasn’t sad that it had ended.

So this brings me to my question. Do I want to date again? As in, date again soon and now?

In seeing him, in a strange way it made me feel loved again. When I was a teenager, I never believed I would be loved, and just after he dumped me, I believed that he had never loved me. Seeing him showed me that although he broke up with me for our differences, there was a lot that he still liked about me.

To date again now would feel like searching for proof that I can be loved. It would feel like I was looking for validation, and there’s a part of me that would like to sign up to a dating website just to chat to strangers and feel that buzz of talking to new people. That might be all the validation I need at the moment.

I’m less sad today

I woke up at 11am to my mother poking me and telling me she was going out shopping. I picked up my phone and I looked at rubbish and thought about my new reality as a single person, and just how strange and new that feels. I thought about the new freedom I have and how heady and terrifying that is. Then I had a wee and ate two apples (but not at the same time).

I’m not quite so sad today. I’ve watched my second Adam Sandler movie in two days and realised that his movies make me think about my dead father, which is a nice thing because it’s lovely to have little reminders of my dad every so often. Thinking of a parent’s death also puts a relationship break down into context, because neither of us have died and that’s pretty nice. I don’t even feel like someone has died today, so that’s also pretty nice.

Not quite so nice that my best friend has decided to leave me, but I think that’s okay.

Last night I downloaded Tinder and Match promptly freaked out. Over the last five years, I’m aware that the dating game has changed. I know that I’ve changed too, but it’s very different when you have the smiling pictures in dating profiles looking up at you at 1am.

I mentioned the headiness. It’s exhilarating to think of kissing somebody new, a faceless amorphous somebody who will hopefully not mind my chubbiness or my lack of willing to wax every piece of body hair I have.

He didn’t mind that, and it makes me sad (again) that he’s gone.

But, he was shorter than me, which is easy enough when you’re 5’9. And he didn’t earn much money, which worried a small and secret part of my mind that only comes out at night. He was white, and I am brown, which sometimes concerned me that he would never quite understand some parts of my history.

He was also kind to me, and he was talented. He showed me the delights of live music, and he introduced me to some friends who I hope I’ll be able to keep.

I deleted the dating apps. I’m not ready for somebody new, and I do want to grasp the freedom I have. I might well download them again in the future, but for now, I’ll try and enjoy the boundless possibilities in front of me.